


The Atari-Incident

by lil_slug



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, But Ted is a jerk, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Kinda canon compliant, M/M, Mentions of incest, Mike is a mess, Mutual Masturbation, Smut, Spanking, and needs a hug, angsty fluff, hints of depression, of sorts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-11
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2020-03-01 05:34:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18794014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lil_slug/pseuds/lil_slug
Summary: Someone who doesn't know the full story might believe Mike had it coming. Will knows better, and he curses Ted Wheeler for not even trying to understand.Based on a request. You wanted Mike to get his ass whooped, so here it is. And since I can't do without smut, you're getting that too. Revolves around Mike mentioning his parents gave away his Atari, hence the title.





	The Atari-Incident

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Strength_in_pain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Strength_in_pain/gifts).



> But never mind the fact that the Atari makes only a brief appearance. I got carried away.
> 
> Yup. Spanking and smut. Double feature, woohoo. Forgive me if this turned into a monster but it wrote itself. What can I do about it? I honestly had a blast writing this.

„Nailed it. _Nailed it!_ “ Dustin shouts loud enough for basically the whole middle school to hear. Triumphantly, he waves around the history test he just absolutely aced. A few kids turn their heads. Neither Dustin nor Lucas appear to have eyes for Mike, though. And Will thinks that‘s a shame. Otherwise they‘d notice something is very much off about him.

 

Well, not just _something_ , Will supposes. Everything is off about Mike. Has been since November, and the reason is clear to anyone involved in the events three months ago. God knows Will is carrying his own heavy burden. Going back to that hell-dimension in episodes of dread, or losing a friend... Will can‘t decide which is worse. At least he somehow manages to push through. He lives his life.

 

Mike‘s eyes on the other hand are dull, lying too deep within the dark rings around them, and all they do is stare stoically ahead, not even scanning the corridor for the likes of Troy and his cronies, like they would before all this crazy stuff happened. Will knows from experience, a kid with his blinkers on is going to end up in trouble around here, especially with his friend going on and on about how much of a history-nerd he is. Actually, Dustin Know-It-All Henderson is an everything-nerd.

 

„Could you shut up now? Everyone knows you‘ve got an A. Big deal.“ Lucas huffs as they pass around the last corner that separates them from their weekend.

 

„Just as everyone knows you‘ve got a C.“ Dustin chimes.

 

„Yeah because you shouted it out loud when we were comparing.“

 

Will keeps his mouth shut. He just sincerely hopes the two won‘t bring up Mike‘s grade. They didn‘t even notice it, but Will saw the fat, red F on Mike‘s paper the second before he quietly slipped it into his back and lowered his gaze for the rest of their history lesson. January had Mike see his first F ever, as far as Will knows. A second one followed in the first week of February. And now another one just three weeks after that? Will can‘t imagine Mike‘s parents being pleased about this.

 

„Hey guys, you wanna go to my place?“ Will proposes with the intent of sparing himself the inevitable fallout between Mike and his parents.

 

„I thought we were going to Mike‘s.“ Dustin returns. „We need our D&D stuff for the weekend.“

 

„Yeah, but-“

 

„It‘s okay, guys.“ Mike sighs, defeat tainting his voice. „We can play Atari or something. How‘s that sound?“ He feigns a grin that is betrayed by his eyes. But for an everything-nerd Dustin is surprisingly oblivious, and Lucas doesn‘t even bat an eye. Only Will has to swallow down the lump in his throat.

 

The Party head out of Hawkins Middle School into a gray, overcast Friday afternoon that sends them only a few, tiny flakes of snow, but a whole lot of ice cold wind that creeps into their thick parkas at the seams, coaxes goosebumps out of them, makes them hurry through their sleepy little hometown.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It looks like they are at least granted some time. Mike‘s mom of course does ask for the history test, which leads to mother and son leaving for the kitchen after prompting Will, Dustin and Lucas to go sit down in the living room.

 

They make themselves as comfortable as they can possibly get on the larger of the two couches, right in front of the turned off TV with Mike‘s Atari stashed in the shelf it‘s resting on. It‘s still weird seeing it without the antenna, but cable television has officially been acquired my Mr. Wheeler two weeks back and according to Mike it‘s just so much better. Will agrees from what he has seen so far. It‘s just that something as fancy as cable TV won‘t likely ever be within his family‘s reach.

 

A moment of awkward silence follows. It‘s always like that without their Paladin. The Party just need a second to realize their leader isn‘t there to bring up a topic, propose a game, or whatnot. The house doesn‘t remain quiet for long, though.

 

„Jeez, what are they about?“ Lucas whispers upon hearing frantic, muffled voices from two rooms over. Mike and his mom talking to each other with concern, and maybe a bit of bile too. „Mike did pretty good on the test, didn‘t he?“

 

„Shit, I don‘t know.“ Dustin responds. He nods at Lucas. „I‘ve seen yours. and Will‘s too. But Mike‘s? Did... did we even compare? Can‘t remember.“

 

„Me neither.“ Lucas muses. „I was too caught up with you telling people about my C. Like, I get it, it‘s not top notch. But I didn‘t fail. I‘m not that much into history anyways.“

 

„Guys...“ Will pipes in. He chews on his bottom lip for a second before continuing. „He‘s got an F.“ The other boys look at him, bewildered. Louder this time, Will clarifies „Mike failed the test. I got a glimpse of his F.“

 

„Not again!“ Dustin slaps a palm to his forehead, groaning. „Third time this year. That why you wanted us to go to your place?“

 

Will nods.

 

„Third time in his life too, I think.“ Lucas adds with a scratch of his chin. „This is bad. Like, really bad. Used to be a straight A student.“

 

„Like you haven‘t noticed already how messed up he is right now.“ Will mumbles. „Think we can do something?“

 

„Dunno.“ Dustin has lost all of his bouncy attitude by now. „It‘s really not about school with him. It‘s just... if the teachers see the pattern, his life is gonna get a lot harder.“

 

„Yeah.“ Will agrees. „That‘s the last thing he needs right now. Look guys, I know you miss her too. But I never met her. I better not try to give him any tips. He wouldn‘t want me talking about her.“ In all honesty, he can‘t bring himself to even say her name. It‘s as though he doesn‘t have the right.

 

„Oh shut up, Byers.“ Dustin half-chuckles. „You could talk to him about anything and anyone and you know it. I mean, you-“

 

But right then, without the three even noticing any sound, Mike rushes into the living room. His face shows nothing. Literally nothing other than maybe the fact that he is incredibly tired and worn out. And again, he grins that phony grin Will hates to see on him. A blind man could tell it‘s fake. Mike _never_ shows any teeth when smiling sincerely. „Okay, let‘s get started. Frogger?“

 

„Mike...“ Will carefully starts, because Dustin and Lucas only stare at each other in discomfort.

 

„What?“ Mike grunts.

 

„Y-you okay?“

 

„Sure. Not gonna let this get to me.“ Mike laughs the whole situation off as if he already knew his friends have found out about the test. „Space Invaders or Frogger? Frogger, right?“

 

„Uh, I guess?“ Will ponders. „Mike, we were just thinking we could-“

 

„Could what?“ Mike demands briskly, head snapping around.

 

Will flinches at the sudden stare and lowers his gaze. „Nothing. S-sorry, Mike.“ It‘s not like he is intimidated. Will couldn‘t be scared of Mike if he had a Beholder‘s eye and teeth, complete with tentacles. What Will _is_ scared of though is making it worse. So if Mike wants to play, they‘re going to play.

 

„Frogger it is.“ Dustin claps his hands as though that means things are settled. They‘re far from settled. Mike shuffles around by the TV for a while, working to get the Atari plugged in. He‘s not allowed to leave it plugged in for whatever reason, so this is the standard procedure. After that it‘s a matter of popping the cartridge in and an afternoon of not quite arcade quality fun awaits them. Complete with colorful, blinking lights, shrill bleeps and boops from the speaker, and untimely onscreen deaths of the only frog in the world that can‘t swim.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Things surprisingly go as usual for a few hours. They‘re all taking turns playing, the one with the controller also being the one closest to the TV, on the carpet, legs crossed, the other three boys waiting in line on the sofa.

 

Will muses over how weird this actually is from time to time. In what world is watching someone else having fun exciting? This only works if you‘re really close, he supposes. Otherwise it would just be plain out boring. With his best friends in the world, it‘s similar to normal people watching a football match. You‘re not involved and yet you cheer at every little success. To be terribly honest, Will would much rather see Mike defending his high scores than set any himself. That would mean at least some sense of accomplishment for his friend.

 

Just like all good things, though, the afternoon comes to an abrupt halt. Like it was just the calm before the storm. The unmistakable rumbling of an American engine makes the walls rattle. Mike perks up first. His shoulders tense for a second, but go limp again soon. He manages to save Frogger from an oncoming car just in time and goes on playing as if nothing had happened.

 

Meanwhile, Will exchanges worried glances with Dustin and Lucas. They only intensify when footsteps can be heard from the basement stairs leading up from the garage. And still, Mike doesn‘t show any more signs of distress. Mr Wheeler quickly crosses the living room, giving just a small nod and a mumbled „Hello...“ in his usual manner.

 

Will hasn‘t seen a lot of Mrs Wheeler today. She‘s kept to other places in the house until now, perhaps because she knew exactly what would happen and didn‘t want to make it worse or didn‘t want to think about it too much. About three minutes after Mr Wheeler‘s non-dramatic entrance, he is back. With his wife in tow. The man himself has an ugly frown plastered across his face, magnified by his thick glasses, while Mrs Wheeler keeps her distance, hand clasped across her mouth.

 

„Michael.“ he sighs, somewhat wearily, gesturing at the TV. „Will you turn that thing off?“

 

„Why?“ Mike asks lightly, neither acknowledging his father‘s presence nor the piece of paper in his hand.

 

Will‘s fingernails dig into the cushion beneath him. There is a threatening quality to this situation already, and he surely doesn‘t want to be here. Still, he is frozen in place along with his two other friends.

 

„Just do as you‘re told, Michael!“ Mr Wheeler‘s voice comes out sternly now. „Your mother and I need to talk to you. Right now.“

 

An exaggerated huff later, the Atari‘s power switch is flipped and Mike tosses the controller to the ground. „Don‘t wanna talk.“

 

And as if Will, Dustin and Lucas weren‘t even there, Mr Wheeler goes on with growing impatience. „That‘s too bad. You‘re gonna have to. Would you mind explaining to me what this is?“ He wobbles Mike‘s failed test around a little.

 

„My history test.“

 

„I know that.“ Mr Wheeler grunts, looming over Mike. „What I don‘t know is why you failed. Again. American history, huh?“ He adjusts his glasses, ready to read from the paper. „ _When did the war of 1812 end?_ You didn‘t even put an answer.“

 

„Because I didn‘t know.“ Mike shrugs. „What, you want me to make something up?“

 

„I want you to study.“ Mr Wheeler shoots back. „This is the third failed test in six weeks. Why is that, Michael?“

 

„What do I know, go ask my teachers.“

 

Internally, Will curses Mike. Mike and his big mouth. Mike and his dark eye bags and his probably sleep-deprived brain that won‘t let him grasp the palpable tension.

 

„Careful, mister.“ Mike‘s father threatens, finger pointed. „I‘m going to have a good talk with your teachers, don‘t worry. But you‘re on thin ice right now, you know that?“

 

„What if I don‘t care?“ Mike talks himself further into his impending doom.

 

„Don‘t you dare give me cheek right now!“ his father hollers so suddenly, all three boys on the couch cringe. And still they‘re still basically non-existent to Mike‘s parents. „You know, I was really about to help you study. But you‘re not in the mood for that, huh?“

 

„Yeah, you got that real quick.“

 

It‘s almost frightening to see Mr Wheeler turn red in the face. Bright at first, but every second that passes has his skin becoming darker. He keeps his tone relatively composed, though. „It‘s this damn thing, am I right? If it wasn‘t for that video game you‘d be up in your room with your school books!“

 

„Probably not-“ Mike starts, but doesn‘t get far.

 

Mr Wheeler goes on, louder this time. „Karen, I think the church is holding a fundraiser to get Mr Brody‘s girl an electric wheelchair, right?“

 

„Right.“ Mrs Wheeler answers curtly.

 

„There we have it!“ her husband proclaims. He bluntly rips the cables from the back of the TV with one swift motion. „Let‘s see how much we can get for this piece of junk. How‘d you like that, Michael? For a good cause.“

 

Defiantly, Mike crosses his arms. Will almost can‘t hear his answer since it‘s so quietly mumbled, but _almost_ is more than enough. „Yeah, go do whatever the fuck you want.“

 

Ted Wheeler‘s movements slow gradually, until he carefully sets the Atari back on the floor in front of the TV. And just as slow, he straightens his back, soon appearing at his tallest and most imposing. Which is odd. Will has never perceived him as an imposing figure at all. Laid back, uncaring and oblivious. That‘s Ted Wheeler. Not this broad man with clenching fists and grinding jaws Will gets to see now.

 

The worst part is his voice, though. It‘s cold as the February wind outside, and so, so quiet. „Michael. Stand up.“ When Mike doesn‘t obey immediately, he adds „If I have to pick you up, there will be hell to pay, young man.“

 

Only then does Mike follow his dad‘s order, if only slowly, careful to keep his arms crossed and his glare unyielding. Will knows this is about to get physical. But what can he do? Flee? Stay and watch? Try to stop the inevitable? Judging from the looks on his friends‘ faces, they‘re thinking the same. Turns out, the decision has already been made.

 

„You boys can stay if you want.“ Mr Wheeler turns to them. „Could be a good lesson for you too.“

 

Mike‘s attitude is gone by the time his father reaches down to unbuckle his belt. „Dad?“ he meekly squeaks, stumbling back a few steps.

 

„Don‘t _Dad_ me, Michael! You had this coming and you know it. Couch. Right now!“

 

„Dad, please, I-“

 

„I‘m not going to repeat myself!“ Mike‘s father is about done pulling the dark brown strip of leather from its loops. „Couch!“

 

Mike‘s legs are visibly shaking when he turns around towards the smaller couch opposite to where the other boys are sitting, glued in place with looks of sheer terror on their faces. And Mike does actually bend over the armrest like Mr Wheeler wants him to.

 

„Michael.“ the man says coldly, staring rather than voicing his next demand.

 

If Mike could pale any more, he does, stiffening. „Dad, n-not in front of my f-friends.“

 

„Maybe that will make sure you learn your lesson.“ Mr Wheeler shrugs. „Need me to help you out?“

 

That very moment, the first tears drop. From both Mrs Wheeler and Mike. Still bent over the couch, he closes his eyes, hands reaching for the waist of his jeans. He pulls it down just enough to expose a few inches of his striped briefs.

 

„Michael.“ Ted Wheeler repeats sharply. „It‘s happening no matter what, so you should want to get it over with. Three seconds. Or do you want to get it out on the front lawn? I can make that happen.“

 

A terrible, wet sob tears from Mike as he swiftly pulls at his underpants too, laying bare pale skin. That is also the moment when Will decidedly turns his gaze away and towards his own feet. No, he‘s not looking at that, and he doesn‘t care if Mr Wheeler wants him to or not.

 

„That‘s better. Have anything to say?“ The man loops his belt once, waiting for a few seconds. „Don‘t worry, you will when I‘m done with you.“

 

Now, this is _really_ the calm before the storm. The short wait before the roller coaster plunges down, when you know you can‘t do anything about it anymore. The few moments Mr Wheeler stalls before delivering the first blow.

 

_Crack!_

 

A cherry bomb could have gone off in the living room and the sound is followed by a sharp hiss from Mike. Will can see his whole body stiffening from the corner of his eye. Mr Wheeler waits for his son to relax.

 

_Crack! Crack! Crack!_

 

The belt his three times in rapid succession. Mike‘s voice is muffled by a couch cushion when he squeals. „Hold... still...!“ Mr Wheeler demands harshly, dealing another smack with each word.

 

Will still won‘t look as not to add to his best friend‘s humiliation, yet he can see and hear Mike shaking and sobbing violently, and that only increases when another three hits land right on his backside.

 

_Crack! Crack! Crack!_

 

With these, Mike really hits his threshold. Nothing is subdued or muffled when he yells out „Stop! Dad, stop! Please!“

 

But begging is the wrong thing to do. Has Mr Wheeler been relatively calm and methodical when this started, this composed demeanor is starting to slip away now. He is slowly falling into a rage of rapid lashes with his belt. „You... don‘t... talk... back... to... me...!“ he shouts. It‘s then that Mike actually tries to get away from him.

 

A series of movements that prompts Will to look up from his own feet for only a second. Mike has maybe crawled an inch or two further onto the couch, formerly pale backside now as red as his father‘s face, when Mr Wheeler gets a grip on the back of his shirt, keeping him in place. „You... will... take... your... punishment...!“ Five more firecrackers go off, followed by Mike screaming out. „Look at that! Your mother is crying because of you! Don‘t you have anything to say to her?“

 

_Crack! Crack!_

 

„I‘m sorry, mom! S-stop, please!“ Mike weeps hysterically. His mom answers with another hoarse sob, turning her face away. Yeah, there is no way she is crying because of what Mike did, Will is pretty sure of that.

 

„I think you should apologize to your friends too for making them watch this!“ Mr Wheeler bellows.

 

_Crack! Crack! Crack!_

 

Mike spasms under the heavy blows on his bare skin, screeching. „G-guys, I‘m sorry! Dad, stop!“

 

„I‘ll stop when I think you‘ve learned your lesson!“ comes the shouted answer, along with an uncountable amount of lashes in such quick succession, it could be an audience clapping. And for Mike‘s and his own sake, Will hopes they‘re not about to demand _‚Encore!‘_.

 

„M-Mom!“ Mike cries under the hits. It‘s the wrong thing to do. Karen Wheeler all but flees the living room, shoulders tense and quivering.

 

„Oh no, mister! Not the time for pity! Your mother agrees with me, we have to set you straight!“

 

Will would beg to differ, but after all Mr Wheeler hasn‘t seen his wife leaving. He is too caught up in this whole scene to notice much of anything. Not Mrs Wheeler‘s exit, not the three boys shifting around on the couch with utter dread. He just presses on, dealing hit after hit, and only appears satisfied when Mike won‘t even cry anymore. Will‘s best friend is limp on the couch, formerly flailing hands limp by his sides, puffing out quiet, raspy breaths.

 

_Crack!_

 

„You‘re going to behave now?“ Mr Wheeler inquires.

 

„Y-yes.“ Mike chokes out through his dried up throat.

 

_Crack!_

 

„You‘re going to study for school?“

 

„Yes, sir.“

 

_Crack! Crack!_

 

„And will you ever curse at me again?“

 

„N-no, sir.“ Mike sobs.

 

„Good.“ Mr Wheeler decides. Just then, he delivers one final, earth-shattering blow with his belt. All that comes from Mike is a shuttering inhale. „Just so you don‘t forget.“

 

And like that, silence settles over the living room. The kind of silence that creeps under your skin worse than any wind of winter could. The kind that makes you listen to your own, accelerated heartbeat drumming in your own ears. That‘s the sort of discomfort Will is experiencing with Mr Wheeler standing there, looking down on his quivering son bent over the couch arm rest.

 

The same goes for Dustin and Lucas. They have paled, looking about as nauseated as Will is feeling. The tension lingering in the stuffy air won‘t diminish, not even when Mr Wheeler sighs, relaxing his shoulders. „Alright, Michael. You know the rules. Thirty minutes and then it‘s straight off to bed.“

 

Will has never seen Mike as pliant as this towards his father‘s commands. He carefully heaves himself up, puffy eyes still lowered, and pretty much limps towards the far corner of the room. Will risks another very short look, to find his friend standing there, facing the wall, pants still lowered. He has started fidgeting with the hem of his shirt in feeble attempts to pull down on it as best as he can.

 

„One more thing.“ Mr Wheeler slowly says. „You‘re grounded until Sunday next week. You will come home from school and head straight to your room. You will not leave your room, you will not have any guests. And when I check up on you, I want to see you studying.“

 

Mike meekly nods his head.

  
„W-we better get going.“ Will can hear Dustin blurting out. He and Lucas are on their feet rather quickly.

 

„You‘re right.“ Mr Wheeler lets out another sigh. „It‘s getting late. Will you be alright on your own?“

 

„Sure.“ Lucas nods immediately.

 

„What about you, William?“

 

Biting his lip, Will shrugs. „I‘m really not allowed outside on my own after dark. I think I should call my mom to pick me up.“

 

„You hear that Michael?“ Mike‘s father proclaims. „Your friends aren‘t as eager to break the rules, huh?“ The man‘s satisfied expression says it all; His superior parenting methods will prevail, no doubt about it. Will finds that comment mildly disgusting.

 

Dustin keeps on staring at his own feet, but Lucas is basically fuming when Will sees his two friends to the door. „That last one really wasn‘t necessary.“ he hisses under his breath so that only the other two can hear. „Mike got it bad enough. I didn‘t wanna see that!“

 

„No. We should‘ve left. Is he gonna be weird around us next week? I don‘t want shit to be weird.“ Dustin laments.

 

„We‘re above that.“ Will says decidedly. „He‘s our leader, no matter what.“

 

„But he‘s a mess!“ Lucas insists. „And today didn‘t help!“

 

„You‘re making it sound like he‘s weak. He‘s not.“

 

Lucas has that certain look of defeat on his face when he shakes his head, reaching for the door. „I mean, we can try and think of something. I‘ll... see you guys tomorrow, I guess.“

 

„I think I‘m gonna stay home this weekend.“ Dustin mumbles.

 

„Me too.“ Will adds. „See you on Monday.“

 

Will should have just walked home, he soon realizes. He would have ended up grounded too, but what difference does it make now? All he knows is, the fifteen minutes he has to wait for his mom to arrive are about the longest he has ever sat through. After a quick phone call, it‘s back to the Wheelers‘ living room, because where else would he go? So it‘s back to sitting on a couch just a few feet away from Mike, who of course has to keep still in his corner and present his abused backside.

 

Will has to practically force his gaze away from the quickly swelling welts on Mike‘s skin. He doesn‘t dare talk. Should Mike feel compelled to reply, he‘d probably get it even worse. Will could wait in the kitchen, or really any place else. What keeps him here is the idea that his presence might be comforting rather than humiliating for Mike.

 

More than once the black-haired boy falls against the wall with his forehead, shivering, before he regains his composure and straightens his back again, all while still trying to hide as much of himself as he can with the hem of his shirt.

 

Lucky for him, it‘s not Mr Wheeler who walks into the living room after an excruciating long period of time. It‘s Mike‘s mom, her eyes all too puffy and reddened. Her voice is hoarse when she tells him „You should go put on your shoes, Will. Your mom is going to be here any minute.“

 

„Yeah. Yeah, right. Thanks.“ Will mumbles. His hopes that Mrs Wheeler would leave the two boys alone for a second shatters. She doesn‘t move an inch until he gets up from the couch. „Bye, Mike.“

 

Mike‘s shoulders heave when he nods his head. If only Will could do something. He‘d do anything. Literally anything. Though he supposes even a hug would help a bit. Something he and Mike are cruelly denied. A sudden stroke of genius makes Will stop dead in his tracks on the way out. „Hey, Mike... Starman is a pretty good song, huh?“

 

The way Karen Wheeler gawks is enough for Will to know she is clueless. Hopefully, Mike isn‘t. No, he definitely gets it.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It‘s past ten already when Will finally dares to switch on his Supercom. Who knows how long Mr and Mrs Wheeler stay up. Radio static can be a bitch. He immediately tunes into channel two, trying his best to get it just right. His mom and Jonathan both need to work tomorrow and waking them up isn‘t in Will‘s interest anyways. Volume set as low as he can, he whispers into the microphone. „Mike? Are you there? Over.“

 

Now, there is a good chance that Mike‘s own Supercom is lying in a shelf somewhere downstairs, confiscated. But Will wouldn‘t bet on it. Mr Wheeler is just somewhat oblivious towards Mike‘s hobbies and he‘d likely have a hard time naming only three items in his son‘s room. And while Mrs Wheeler might have thought about it, Will doubts she would want to make it even worse on Mike.

 

„Mike.“ Will repeats with diminishing hopes of getting a reply. „Do you copy? Over.“

 

Nothing, other than the crackling static. It‘s too loud to even fall victim to the noise gate. Lots of interference tonight. An exhale later, Will reaches for the power knob. Mike must be exhausted. Fast asleep.

 

„ _Will?“_ a faint whisper comes from the little speaker in tin-can quality.

 

„Mike!“ Will gasps. „Keep the volume down, okay?“

 

„ _Got my headphones.“_

 

„Good. H-How are you?“ Will‘s question comes out with hesitation. How is Mike _supposed_ to be? Miserable.

 

No answer. Only a short, sniffled squeal and an unnecessary apology. _„I‘m sorry, Will.“_

 

„Hey, no.“ Will deadpans. „I don‘t wanna hear it. It‘s not your fault.“

 

„ _Course it‘s my fault. M-my mom-“_ Mike stops himself there.

 

„What about her?“

 

„ _Nothing.“_

 

„Mike, what about her?“ Will repeats.

 

„ _Nothing, okay?“_ comes the somewhat aggressive huff. _„Go to bed.“_

 

Does Mike really believe Will is going to let it rest just like that? He wouldn‘t have dropped the channel-two hint if he was ready to give up. „I can‘t sleep. Will you tell me what your mom did? Come on, I wanna know.“

 

„ _She did nothing, just... My dad was right.“_

 

„He wasn‘t!“

 

„ _But she‘s been crying all evening. Why do I have to be so stupid all the time? Can‘t even get a dumb test right. I really gotta watch my attitude.“_

 

Will can‘t entirely disagree about the attitude-thing. But is it really Mike‘s fault. „You just need sleep. You‘ve been tired as hell all week.“

 

The radio speaker begins to crackle more severely halfway through Mike‘s wet, humorless laughter and the signal cuts off a few times. _„I get ... hours ... more than enough ... can‘t stop thinking ... seriously leave me alone, Will.“_

 

„Signal is breaking up.“ Will says in a hurry. „Is Nancy home yet? You got anyone to talk to?“

 

„ _... out with friends ... I guess ... no one else ... I‘m ... better that way ... more trouble.“_ Then, the cruel interference gets the best of their meek nine-volt-battery powered signal. It‘s all just static from there on, like the hopeless wind in the trees around Will‘s house.

 

He has to do something.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Will has to be careful if he doesn‘t want to end up with a sore backside too. Scratch that, he doesn‘t care. The fear he might put his mom and Jonathan through would be enough of a punishment for him. Yet, he does sneak out. He does stumble through the woods with just an old, heavy flashlight lighting his path. He is scared shitless, too. Not so much about the return of the Demogorgon. That one‘s gone for good (he hopes). The flashbacks are another thing, and plunging into one at ten in the blisteringly cold night in the middle of the dark woods isn‘t on Will‘s bucket list.

 

He makes it to the main road without any incidents, and from there on it gets easier. If Nancy isn‘t home by now, his chances are looking up if he hurries. Will doubts that Mike would risk sneaking out of his room to open the door for him, but with Nancy he might have a chance.

 

The last two blocks, Will basically crosses running. Both to get there before Mike‘s sister and to warm himself up. White clouds from his hot breath follow him all the way to the Wheeler house. Where he arrives soon, but with no idea if _too_ soon, or too late. It‘s eerily quiet and since Will can‘t risk alerting Mike to his presence, he flops down on the doorstep after at least checking by the garage to see if he might get in through there. No success.

 

The one hour Will has decided to wait is almost up, his face and ears numb from the cold and joints too frozen to move without pain. Finally, the dainty figure he‘s been waiting for emerges from the dark, turning from just the sound of footsteps into a vague shadow into Mike‘s older sister. Will looks up at her standing there. She gawks down on him.

 

„Jeez, Will!“ Nancy gasps too loud for this hour. „What are you doing here?“

 

„Uh... hi.“ Will starts, only realizing now that he hasn‘t yet thought of anything to actually tell her. At least she appears to be sober and to be reasoned with. „I just wanted-“

 

„Wait, you‘re not in trouble, right? Like, Upside-Down trouble.“ Nancy deliberately scans her surroundings and goes on before Will can calm her. „It‘s okay. You‘re coming inside and we call your mom. And Steve. The chief too, if you want.“

 

„I‘m not in trouble!“ Will gets out when she stalls to catch her breath. He has to fight to keep his voice down. „It‘s... it‘s Mike. He‘s in trouble and I have to go see him.“

 

Nancy‘s entire posture deflates. „Mike‘s in trouble? You mean regular old-fashioned trouble?“

 

„He‘s got an F in last week‘s history test.“

 

„O-Okay. And?“

 

„And he kinda cussed out your dad earlier. He... he got it really bad.“

 

„God dammit!“ Nancy curses. „You saw it?“

 

Will nods. The memory brings back some of his earlier discomfort. „Dustin and Lucas too. But I just talked to Mike on the radio and he sounded... like he needs help.“

 

For a second, Nancy swells to her full, less than impressive size, pointing her finger down directly at Will‘s face. She must have long realized she can only either let Will in or walk him home. Or send him home at her own responsibility. „Look, I‘ve been out way, _way_ too long and I don‘t wanna get in trouble. So if they catch us-“

 

Will doesn‘t realize how pleadingly desperate he must look until Nancy sighs into the crackling cold.

 

„I‘ll try to cover for you if anything happens. And dad is getting a piece of my mind tomorrow, I swear.“ Okay, so maybe she is a little drunk. Who cares? Will is getting in and that‘s all that matters. Nancy doesn‘t need to tell him to be sneaky. He immediately pulls off his shoes but of plans to bring them upstairs with him. The Wheeler house is quiet in more than one sense. It‘s solid enough not to creak too much when someone is sneaking around.

 

„So, you want me to come in with you?“ Nancy inquires. „I know how much it can hurt.“

 

„I think we‘ll be fine. I can‘t visit tomorrow though. He‘s not allowed for the next week and I don‘t wanna use the Supercom during the day, so...“

 

„I‘ll make sure to check up on him.“ Nancy promises. „Hey, Will?“

 

„Yeah?“ Will already has one foot on the first step.

 

„You‘re a good friend, you know that?“

 

He doesn‘t see any more of Nancy after that as she heads to the kitchen first. The stairs are quiet as expected. Mike‘s room is stuffy. Will finds it hard to breathe the second he closes the door behind him quietly. It‘s even darker than the hall, so his eyes need to adjust first. His ears are fine from the get-go, and Mike‘s labored breaths can‘t be overheard.

 

„Mike?“ Will whispers. „Mike, I know you‘re awake.“ It‘s a lie, Mike could be sleeping. „Can I sit down?“ He drops his heavy parka on the floor to the sound of more wheezing breaths, approaching the bed in T-shirt and sweatpants.

 

Since there is not reply, Will just plants himself by the bedside. The mattress doesn‘t creak when it gives in under his weight. And Mike keeps his head turned towards the wall so all Will can see is a mop of black hair that‘s sticking out from under the blanket. It‘s clear that Mike is lying on his stomach. Of course.

 

Some rubbing of his numb hands to get them up to temperature and a moment of hesitation later, Will‘s fingers ghost across his best friend‘s shoulder. „Getting here was kinda risky, y‘know. Don‘t you wanna say something?“

 

„Go home.“

 

Will realizes it wasn‘t really the radio speaker that made Mike‘s voice sound so small. It just is. „Don‘t wanna go out there again.“ Will utters. „I was really scared for a while. I... uh... I brought you something. Didn‘t have dinner, huh?“

 

„No.“ Mike responds. „M‘not hungry.“ The way he slowly perks up when Will plants the two Snickers bars he brought on the pillow by his face tells a different story.

 

„I guess they‘re a bit frozen and it‘s not really... dinner.“ Will apologizes. „But it‘s something.“

 

„T-Thanks.“ Mike goes about carefully unwrapping the chocolate bar. Will can‘t see if the first bite he takes is small, but he guesses it.

 

„So... h-how are you feeling?“

 

Mike chews. He swallows. „Like I should.“

 

Will decides to ignore the self-accusatory tone for now. „Did you get any sleep?“

 

„I-It...“ A trembling squeak cuts Mike‘s answer short. „It hurts...“ he goes on in a way higher pitch. „Go away. Please. I d-don‘t wanna-“

 

„Hey, we can just never bring it up again if you want.“ Will shushes. His hand grips at Mike‘s shoulder with decided firmness now. „Dustin and Lucas don‘t want things to get weird. We can just pretend it never happened.“

 

It‘s not easy to tell if Will just said the right or the wrong thing. He would have thought Mike‘s tears have already run dry, though that‘s not the case. Even worse than a few hours ago, Mike‘s entire body is shaken as he pulls the pillow up to press his face into. In a split second, without a second thought that it might be awkward or inappropriate, Will scoots under the blanket. He finds Mike‘s shirt all damp as he slings an arm around his shoulder, all while making sure not to touch his behind in any way.

 

„M-My dad used to hurt me.“ Will shudders at the memory a little. All those nights when his mom had to work and he just couldn‘t do anything right, according to the drunk man on their living room couch. And Lonnie Byers was worse, in a way. He didn‘t need a proper reason. And he didn‘t limit himself to Will‘s ass either.

 

„I k-know.“ Mike croaks.

 

„And I couldn‘t sleep either, y‘know.“ He only then realizes what he is about to do. The confession Will is about to make has his head heating up, heartbeat accelerating. What will Mike‘s reaction be? „Few years back Jonathan showed me a... I mean... like, a trick. A-and it‘d make me feel better. He‘d always help me.“

 

Mike sniffles, face buried in the pillow. „Yeah?“

 

Will‘s mouth is running dry, so his voice turns into one that really doesn‘t sound like him anymore. „I-If I tell you, you gotta promise. Promise you never tell anyone, okay?“

 

Maybe Will has just gotten Mike‘s interest, because his friend steadies himself to a point where he keeps mostly still. His quiet sobs are still shaking him every now and then, though. „Promise.“ he whispers.

 

„O-Okay. It‘s easy, I guess. You just... use your hand and...“ It‘s so damn hard to actually say it out loud. And besides, Will knows for a fact that it worked better when Jonathan did it instead of Will himself. Something about being close to someone else makes all the difference. „I could... I mean, I shouldn‘t. But I c-could show you.“

 

„Yeah?“ Mike whispers.

 

„If you can lie down on your side.“ Will ponders. „Does that work?“

 

It requires a bit of shifting, painful hisses from Mike‘s side, but he ends up with his back flush against Will‘s chest, which is about as comfortable as they will get for this.

 

„So it‘s okay if I-“

 

„S‘okay.“ Mike nods his head.

 

All Will‘s eyes pick up is black hair when his hand slides down from Mike‘s shoulder over his side. Only to flinch back when he finds nothing but bare skin below his friend‘s shirt. Which is stupid because he‘ll have to touch Mike‘s bare skin anyways.

 

„H-Hurts too much.“ Mike tries to justify his lack of even underwear.

 

Will takes another breath and brings his hand back on his friend. And yeah, he does feel for Mike‘s butt first, ever so gently. Calloused as it is, the slight brush of fingers makes Mike wiggle away.

 

„Sorry, not gonna do that again.“ Will promises solemnly. He then reaches around Mike‘s front until his knuckles come in contact with the mattress, giving the black-haired boy one more chance to back out.

 

What Will does next might be wrong. Or unnatural. Some people say that. Will isn‘t dumb. He knows it‘s a sex-thing when someone touches someone else between their legs. And Jonathan knew it when he helped Will for the first time. But if Will could convince himself that it was just a brother helping a brother out, he can tell himself this is just a friend helping a friend.

 

He finds Mike hard. Will is ashamed of the fact that he enjoys the sensation of holding his best friend‘s most private parts in his hand, though the thought is wiped by the small whimper that falls from Mike. One that isn‘t (or isn‘t entirely) caused by pain.

 

Mike is bigger than Will himself and even has a few hairs in places, Will realizes when he gets a light grip and starts stroking up and down slowly. „This okay?“ he inquires.

 

„Y-Yeah.“ Mike presses out in between shaky breaths. „Thank you.“ He sounds more confident now. As though this act oddly provides him with at least part of his lost dignity. It makes some sense to Will, in the weirdest kind of way. He varies speed and grip like Jonathan sometimes did, because it‘s not just about the end result. Will has long figured out that you feel better in the end if it takes a little longer.

 

The noises Mike gives him are similar to his earlier sobs, just not quite the same. Will likes them, thinks they‘re cute. Just as the way Mike wiggles his lower half around. And Will feels for all of him, even going as far as stopping entirely for just a moment go further down and run his fingertips across the bit of sprinkled hair there. But Mike whines in protest, so Will goes back to business.

 

„Hey.“ he whispers against the back of Mike‘s neck, words swallowed by damp, black hair. „It‘s gonna get better, okay?“ Will finds a slow, steady rhythm with his strokes. One that has Mike gasping for air periodically.

 

„I know.“ his friend gasps.

 

„No, I mean it.“ Will insists. „We‘re all here for you, no matter what.“ He tries to put enough confidence into his voice to make up for the rather meaningless phrase. Even words like these spoken with confidence help Will a lot, especially coming from Jonathan in a situation similar to this.

 

„Okay.“ Mike declares, shuddering. „I... hah... I believe you.“

 

„That‘s good.“ Will gives a little squeeze with hand on an upstroke, eliciting the strongest squirm yet from Mike. „‘cause it‘s true. You‘re gonna get a few nights of sleep, okay?“

 

„Yeah.“

 

Will speeds up his movement considerably. He really, sincerely wishes this could be the only activity ever to make his best friend whine. It‘s not, but it would be nice anyways. Right now, Mike isn‘t hurting anymore if Will‘s personal experiences are anything to go by. He‘s feeling as good as he deserves, no less.

 

„Will...“ Mike whimpers. „D-Don‘t-“

 

„I‘m not stopping, don‘t worry.“

 

The moment comes quickly. Mike produces a more than high pitched gasp. Will is so close to him, he can feel his every muscle flexing while he keeps working his hand. Another, smaller gasp, and just like that one or two little drops of slick warmth end up in Will‘s palm. Giving three or four more pumps, Will smiles into Mike‘s hair.

 

„There...“ he coos. „All better now.“

 

There isn‘t an immediate answer. Breath coming out faster than before, he coughs a few times, while Will wipes his hand at his own sweatpants to get rid of the result. If his mom notices the stains, well what is she going to do?

 

Keeping Mike close, listening to his calming respiration and feeling the tension leaving his muscles is about as rewarding as Will has imagined it beforehand. It‘s maybe two or three minutes later, when Will already believes Mike has fallen asleep, that the faint rustling of plastic breaks up the comfortable silence. Along with the smell of peanuts and chocolate, as well as the sound of a starving boy gobbling down a Snickers bar.

 

And Will can‘t help but giggle. Despite everything that has brought him down today, laughter bubbles from his stomach, and it‘s light-hearted and honest. Mike laughs too, whenever he gets a chance to in between swallowing chunks of candy. He practically devours both bars in record time, sighing when he is finished.

 

„Will?“

 

„Yeah?“

 

„Can we do this more?“ Mike whispers. „I don‘t mean _that_. I just... _This_ , y‘know.“ He gives a gentle tug to Will‘s arm that‘s slung around his body. They used to share a bed sometimes when they were really small, before it became awkward to do so with your male best friend. But that awkwardness really wasn‘t one Will ever felt himself. Maybe it was imposed in them from the outside. In that case, Will would be more than happy to break up the bad habit of _not_ cuddling.

 

„Sure. Whenever you want to.“ he smiles.

 

„Will?“

 

„Yeah?“

 

„You can‘t sleep here.“ Mike notes, yawning. „If they catch you-“

 

„Don‘t worry. I‘m gonna stay up and leave when you‘re asleep. Okay?“

 

Mike shifts around a few inches. He‘s in a state that Will knows too well. Spent, exhausted. He‘d be shaky on his legs if he tried to get up. „So...“ Mike‘s voice is already starting to fade into sleep. „I‘ll see you on Monday?“

 

„Yeah. See you on Monday.“

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, so the cliche is there. Of course it's dad with his belt. Hope I could at least somewhat make this my own.


End file.
